“I know. It’s tragic. And here I thought I’d finally get to sample a Cuban.”
I burst out laughing. “Tash, you’re sad.”
“Girl, it’s been five weeks. For five weeks, I haven’t had any D. You know it’s my drug of choice. I’m showing signs of withdrawal.” I laugh harder, the tension in my chest easing for the first time in days.
“Tasha, thanks. I needed that.”
“Why?” Her tone shifts to serious, Tasha. “What’s wrong?” Shit, my heart jumps into my throat. Damn her lawyer instincts. Tasha is a shark for reading people. It’s what makes her such a brilliant lawyer, and I cannot afford her digging right now.
“Nothing.” I force a casual tone. “You’re such a worrywart. I feel sorry for your future kids.”
“Ari?”
She’s not buying it. “Seriously. Same old stuff. Simon’s dumped more work on me, and it’s quarterly tax filing season, so I’m swamped.” Not technically a lie, I’m in the middle of a periodic surcharge filing.
A pause. “Oooh, you’re stuck with more of that pig’s workload? I told you to let me slash his tires.”
I smother a groan. This again. “And I told you that wouldn’t solve anything.”
“Ari! It would make me feel better, and I think you would too. Trust me. Please let me do it.”
“No.”
“Come on, it’s not like anyone would know.”
“Still no.”
“Ugh. You’re impossible. But fine... promise me you’re, okay?”
I hesitate. I should tell her. But dragging Tasha into this? Into Cyan? No. “I’m okay, Tash.”
“Hmm. Fine. But if I find out you’re lying, you’ll not have a choice about the tires.”
“How much longer are you stuck in Florida?” I rush to change the topic and get some info.
“Two, maybe three more weeks. Four at the most.”
I let out a sigh of relief; I’ll have some time to get Cyan’s attention elsewhere. “I feel sorry for your client’s soon to be ex-husband. You’re going to take him to the cleaners for this, aren’t you?”
She lets out a wicked laugh. “Oh, twice over. He thought he was being petty. I’m about to make his soon-to-be ex-wife filthy rich.”
A knock sounds in the background. “Room service.”
“Gotta go, Ari. Please think about my offer to slash Simon’s tires.”
“Still no, Tash.”
“You’re no fun.” The call disconnects, and just like that, the weight of my reality settles back onto my shoulders as silence rushes in, cold and punishing. I’m alone with my lies again.
***
On Wednesday, I’m informed that Simon and I will work at the firm’s Boston head office on a new client file next week. Since my aunt lived in the city, I declined the firm’s hotel offer. Pauline’s cousin agreed to stay with my grandmother over the weekend, making it easier for me to take the job’s bonus payout without worry.
This trip will give me the edge over Johnny. I wish I could see his face Monday morning when he comes to pick me up–only to discover I caught the last flight out Sunday night. Of course, as soon as I walk out my front door to catch my ride, there’s Johnny.
“Guess you forgot to update me, Ari,” he says sarcastically, “but no worries, James already reached out to Cyan, so I’ll still be picking you up and dropping you off even in Boston.”
I grit my teeth. “Fan-fucking-tastic. Didn’t realize Cyan was promoted to my personal assistant.”
